Books About Biker Gangs Novels & Stories

He touched it with a gentleness I hadn't seen him show to anything else. By the time dusk rolled in, I couldn’t stay cooped up anymore. The walls of the room felt like they were pressing in. I slipped out and wandered through the dimly lit hallways of the clubhouse. Most of the bikers ignored me, their attention on card games or greasy food. Some stared, curious but silent, their eyes following me like shadows. I heard whispers, hushed tones that carried through the smoke-filled air. About “the girl Reaper brought in.” About me being “another broken bird.”

The rider slammed on the brakes, the bike sliding sideways and coming to a stop just inches from my legs. He ripped his helmet off. He had dark hair, a jagged scar near his eyebrow, and a look of pure annoyance. His leather vest had a patch: IRON GRAVE MC. "You trying to die, Princess?" he barked. "Or did you just get lost on the way to the castle?" I was shaking so hard I could barely speak. In the distance, I saw the black SUVs. Edmund’s men. "Please," I choked out, grabbing his arm. "I need to get out of here. They’re going to catch me."

It is not where the family ends. That continues in the archive soon to reach the world, in Adrian's account still being written, in Iris's first steps toward a window that has always opened from the inside, in whatever finds its way to this gate next, in whoever still needs, somewhere out there, a place that holds. The door stays open. Always. THE END Marked by the Moon, Crowned by Vengeance / Biker's Temptation: Claimed by the Ruthless Mafia King: Book One Book Two begins where every door, eventually, leads: outward, into whatever comes next.

We are started out as friends, then we became enemies, before in a cheesy way love conquered all. I was broken, abandoned, abused, and bullied. But all that only made me who I was supposed to be. Their woman, their wife, the mother to our girls. I may not be a mafia princess, but they are my bikers. They are my best friends, my men, and my destiny. And I can’t wait to see what else is thrown at us because I know no matter what it is, we will come out of it on top and stronger than before. The End.

We looked at the pack land together in the early morning, and I thought about the highway in the dark and the bond reaching toward something it couldn't reach yet, and I thought about what it meant to be the thing it was reaching toward without knowing it. "I want to ask you something," I said. "Okay." "The riding." I paused. "The motorcycle. You've been doing it your whole life. What is it about it." He thought about this for a moment. "It's the only thing where the speed is inside the experience rather than outside it," he said. "In a car you're watching the speed. On a bike you're in it. Your body is part of the physics." He paused. "During the feral years it was the only time the noise i

“They built a gang. Then another. Then another.” My chest tightens. “George excelled as a leader,” he says. “Under his control, gangs spread all over San Francisco. Money poured in. Kids were recruited. Neighborhoods collapsed.” His voice stays calm, which somehow makes it worse. “From the Hunters in Bayview to Towerside in Vistacoin Valley — eventually, every one of them answered to him.”

His chiseled jawline was carefully sculpted, and his deep brown spiky hair spread across his face, dancing in the wind and slightly hiding his emerald eyes. Each of them wore similar clothing;. Typical characteristics of bikers. They were in jeans, boots, and a vest that displayed their club color. [WILD HOGS]. They also wore a red neckerchief, the ends clasped with a sliding knot ornament. Gold chains hung on their necks, with earrings attached to their ears. In total, they were the word Perfect itself.

Athena Chaos is supposed to be loud, but this was quiet. It didn't explode; it just sort of seeped into the clearing like a bad smell. The bikes rolled in with a low, oily growl. No chrome, no insignias just matte-black frames and riders who looked like they’d forgotten how to blink. The morning mist didn't stand a chance; the heat from their engines shredded it into nothing. Inside me, my wolf wasn't just bristling; she was pacing a tight, frantic circle, her claws snagging on my psyche. These guys weren't here to talk. They were here to see who bled first.

Some were so afraid to be killed that they’d rather kill everyone in the same room, including themselves. “Martil.” She called me desperately, her hand on the killer’s arms as she tried to prevent him from choking her with the gun. He snickered, watching the heartbreak moment. “I didn’t know you like bitches.” I sucked my teeth, waiting for him to make one mistake. “Who sent y’all?” I asked. The killer laughed. “You are always a wanted man. No one has to send people to kill you.” He wasn’t completely wrong. I only owned a biker gang yet it seemed like I owned a whole mafia world. Sometimes, a biker gang could be more dangerous than a Mafia’s.

Ryder's POV I climbed on my bike and geared out of the biker gang into the city cuz I was so fricking pissed The council of elders could chew on their own pride for all I cared. I wasn’t going to let the pack’s youths use their wolf speed and stamina to humiliate humans in petty competitions. It was stupid. Dangerous. And exactly the kind of thing that drew unwanted attention. But of course, they didn’t see it that way. They called me overcautious.